Man's Best Friend
by fangirl05
Summary: Sam and Dean travel to the Hanging Hills of Connecticut to investigate what looks like a demon attack. Set sometime in Season 1.
1. Prologue

The woman is in pain.

Her upper lip has been cut away, as have her ears and most of her nose. She wishes she could curl her fingers around the arms of her chair to stop the pain, but her fingers are too short now.

"Please," she whimpers to their attacker, "Why are you doing this?"

Her answer is a slap to the cheek that burns like hellfire and leaves her seeing stars.

The assailant suddenly garbs her face and forces her jaw open. He holds a pair of red-hot tongs in his free hand. The woman realizes his intent and flings her head furiously. She has to get away, but his grip is like a vice.

She somehow manages to scream again when the tongs close around her tongue and pull it out of her mouth. The char-scented steam that rises into her nonexistent nostrils makes her wretch.

Then she sees the scissors.

The man isn't careful not to touch the scalding blades to the corners of her mouth. She shrieks more in horror now as the better part of her tongue falls into her lap. She fears the worst when the man reaches for her pants, but her simply wrestles her phone out of her pocket. His gloved fingers leave no prints. He punches a few buttons and holds the screen up toward her.

"Nine-one-one," the speaker blares, "what is your emergency?"

While the woman scream incoherently in the general direction of the phone, he tosses it callously to the floor and out of her reach, pries an arm off a free chair, hurls it through a window, and is gone.

* * *

**A/N: I figured I should get this posted now before an episode with almost the same title airs. Dammit, writers, stop stealing my ideas!**


	2. Chapter 1

"Hey," Dean greets him and throws him a breakfast burrito, "Y'find anything?"

"Yeah" Sam catches and unwraps Dean's idea of food, "Couple months ago this girl Melissa North and her friend Lucius Gray were attacked in a room at some local bed n' breakfast. Melissa was mutilated with hot blades, Lucius was castrated and had his throat cut."

"Son of a bitch" Dean sounds equal parts impressed and disgusted, "You're sayin' a demon did this?"

"Well, there was definitely a demon involved" Sam answers, "Melissa described the guy that attacked them as lanky, but he managed to rip off a solid wooden chair arm and pitch it a block and a half through a closed window."

"Huh" Dean grunts noncommittally. He swipes his keys off the table. "Saddle up, Sammy."

* * *

Glass-half-empty types might say that Meriden, Connecticut doesn't seem able to decide whether it wants to be a real city or just a really big suburb. Those more positively-inclined would say that it's got a little something for everyone: parks and mountains for the outdoorsy; public and private schools; clean, peaceful housing within easy distance of everything. It seems like a good place to settle down and raise a family, even when you're still just getting over the hard-partying lifestyle.

Seven Randolph Avenue doesn't look like one of those places.

Apartment 17C. This is where Melissa's staying. Her sister let her move in with her after the attack.

The girl that answers the door is weird-looking in that she can't really be called pretty or ugly: her face is unremarkable, if horrifically pale; her eyes and hair are the same dull shade of black; and she stands maybe an inch or two shorter than Dean. She looks confused by the presence of two federal agents on her doorstep.

"Can I help you?" she raises her eyebrow at them.

"I'm agent Sullivan, this is agent Simmons" Dean introduces them, "We're here to ask ms. North a few questions."

She raises her opposite eyebrow and doesn't let them pass. "I though the other guys took care of all that."

"Is and Ts, mostly" Dean explains, "Wanna make sure we aren't looking for the same guy here."

Her brows furrow in concern. "What does that mean? This has happened somewhere else?"

"Yeah. Vegas strip."

She rolls her eyes. "Shocker." With that, she stops blocking the door. "Mel!" she belts with surprising volume, "Feds're back! Passably hot this time!"

Dean opens his mouth to retort, then jolts and clams up when he gets his first eyeful of Mel North.

Her ears, lip and nostrils have been sliced off. Her deep blonde waves are unkept and raggedy under the rubber band in her hair and there's no light behind her green eyes. Her hands are wrapped in medical tape and her fingers look about a joint shorter each.

Dean catches the eyes of the black-haired girl mostly by mistake. The look she's got him pinned under probably couldn't kill him, but it could do some serious mauling if it felt like it. He opens his mouth to say something to her, but she silences him with her hand in his face.

"Save it" she spits, "Just get your answers and get outta my house."

The house in question is very well kept: white walls, grey suede furniture, black coffee table, dark blue shag carpet. Whatever isn't carpeted is white tile.

She sinks testily onto the other end of the love seat Mel's seated on, legs crossed with her head in one arm. Mel looks at Sam and Dean in confusion and types briefly at a small phone. A computer's voice speaks after a minute:

_I thought you got everything you needed last time._

"Eh, what's with the speak-and-spell?" Dean asks. Mel opens her mouth to reveal her tongue's been cut off.

"So," Sam starts, what with Dean having clammed up again, "What exactly happened that night, again? Just to confirm."

She types for a minute. Her eyes tear up as she does.

_Lucius and I were at the B&B. The guy kicked the door in and tied Lucius down first, then came at me. He cut Lucius' balls off and then his throat. He made me watch him bleed to death._

The girl with black hair's started drumming her fingers on her knee.

"Any idea why he killed Lucius first?

_No._

"What happened next?" Sam's always been good at looking like he hates having to make the victims relive it. Melissa sighs and restarts typing.

_He told me I wouldn't be so lucky. He brought out the meat cleaver first. He cut off my fingers. I think he used a steak knife on my face. It was serrated. He used tongs and scissors on my tongue._

"And they were all heated, right?" Dean's found his voice again.

_Yes._

"Do you remember what he looked like? Anything?"

_He had gloves and a balaclava. I didn't see his face or hands. He was just really skinny._

"And he didn't sound familiar at all?" Sam tries.

_Not really, no._

"Huh." Dean flips his notepad shut. "Well, I think that's everything."

Mel's sister is on her feet before the brothers are.

"If you remember anything else," Sam says to Melissa, "Give us a call."

"Move" the sister shoves him pointedly toward the door. Dean's barely over the threshold when she slams it on them and fixes the deadbolt into place.

* * *

They decide to grab coffee at a Dunkin' Donuts a few blocks away. Sam gets the coffee while Dean finds a table.

"So," Sam asks when he gets back, "Whatta you think?"

"I think case or no case, I did not like the look of that girl with the black hair."

Sam smirks. "That's just your bruised ego talking."

"To hell with my ego, she full-on Samara-ed me, man!" He points his hand fingers-first at Sam and wriggles them for emphasis. "She was trying to kill me with her eyes!"

"Well, you _did_ take one look at her sister and hit the roof." Sam raises his eyebrow.

"Well, what the hell d'you expect, Sam?" Dean spreads his arms, "I'm Dean Winchester, I got standards."

Sam scoffs and is about to say something to that, but somebody's raised eyebrow beats him to it:

"_Winchester_?"

They turn in their seats in surprise and come face to... Chest... -Ish... With the girl in question.

"Okay, probably not _the_ gayest name I've ever heard," she continues, "but definitely up there."

"Where'd you come from?" Sam asks, and she raises her eyebrow.

"My house? It's not that far a walk. Plus, it's not that easy to miss a '69 Chevy Impala in a place like this."

"It's a '67 Impala" Dean clarifies.

"I wasn't talking to you" she narrows her eyes at him, and turns her head directly toward Sam. "But I didn't follow you guys out here for no reason. I came because I wanted to add something. I just figured Mel wouldn't take it well." She looks both ways and leans on their table. Her voice lowers almost to a conspiratorial whisper:

"I think whoever did this is working with a black dog."

Dean and Sam exchange a look. "You sure it's not just black-and-tan?" Dean jokes first.

She looks furiously at him. "I don't mean black as in color!" she snaps at him, then promptly lowers her voice, "I'm talking a bout a Black Dog. A hellhound. A demon dog."

Now they're interested. "How do you figure?" Dean asks.

She really looks surprised. "You believe me." It's a statement more than a question. She brushes it aside. "I don't really have much to go on beyond thinking. I mean, Mel never said anything about a dog to anybody, including me, but come on, how else is a guy supposed to pry a chair apart and pitch it a block away?"

"D'you have any idea where to find 'em?" Dean asks, and for once she doesn't yet at him.

"If you mean the human, no" she says, "If you mean the dog, yes." She walks over to a gray, nineties-looking Nissan. "Follow me."

* * *

The brothers follow her to the west end of Hubbard Park, where she points to an extension of cliffs with what looks like a castle turret built into a hill toward the east.

"The dog's supposed to haunt around there" she points, "I can't guarantee that you'll find it, but if you're looking, that's your best bet."

"Have you ever seen it?" Sam asks.

"I think I may have once," she says, "and so I'm never going back _there_ again."

"Why not?" Dean asks. She looks at him like he's an idiot.

"Haven't you ever heard the legend of the Black Dog of the Hanging Hills? 'If you meet the Black Dog once, it shall be for joy; if twice, it shall be for sorrow; and the third time shall bring death?' Huh?"

Sam shakes his head.

"Course not" she rolls her eyes. "Oh, by the way, I don't think we've been properly introduced." She extends her hand. "Vespa North."

* * *

Sam and Dean patrol the same area later that night. It's a little more of a hike up the hillside than either of them are used to, but it's nothing they can't handle.

Their efforts are well rewarded: they spot a hooded humanoid shape petting the muzzle of and apparently speaking to a dog the size of a horse.

The hunters raise their guns. The dog's head first raises at the sound, then swings toward it. The possible human next to it does the same. The dog bares its teeth in a growl and the two shapes tear off in either direction.

The brothers are after them in an instant. "I got Cujo," Dean barks at Sam, "you go after that thing!" They've turned in their directions almost before the last syllable is out of Dean's mouth.

The fact that whatever Sam's chasing clearly knows the terrain doesn't change that Sam's got an easy foot on it, at least. He catches it by its shoulder after a few seconds and yanks it back against his chest. It screams - she screams - and grabs his forearm curled around her upper chest, then shoves it up toward her chin and sinks her teeth so hard into his arm Sam swears he can feel them clack against his bones. He bellows in pain, which gives her just enough of an opportunity to bash her head back against his nose and elbow his stomach straight into his throat. She hurls herself away from him as he doubles over, and doesn't appear to lose momentum as the ground levels out. Sam thinks so, anyway, he can't really see or breathe at the moment.

Dean's suddenly at his side, hauling him to his feet. "Yours got away, too?" he asks, even though there's really no point, "What happened?"

"She bit me."

"She?"

"Yeah. She screamed when I grabbed her."

"Yeah?" Dean smirks. "Didn't think ya had it in ya, Sammy."

Sam frowns at him.

"Okay, come on" Dean slings Sam's unbitten arm over his shoulder, "You need a tetanus shot."


	3. Chapter 2

Sam rubs his tetanus-shot hand while they wait for Vespa to answer her door the next morning. She has a mostly-empty bottle of beer in hand when she does, even though it's barely after nine.

"Oh, _you're_ back" she is not thrilled to see Dean. He smiles thinly at her; the feeling's mutual, honestly. She looks over at Sam and makes a concerned face at his bandaged hand. "What happened to you?"

"Whoever's got the Black Dog bound to them took a bite outta me last night."

"They _bit_ you?" She looks horrified, then quickly switches to confused. "Wait, how do you know it was them?"

"How many other breeds of dogs grow up six-plus feet?" Dean asks snidely.

"Six?" she repeats, then shakes her head and, from the sound of it, talks mostly to herself, "Okay, this is _definitely_ not the same dog."

"What the hell d'you mean it's not the same dog?" Dean asks a little sharply. She is not pleased.

"I mean, the Hanging Hills Dog is supposed to pass for a normal little stray" she explains equally sharply, "And since this one _obviously_ doesn't, I suddenly don't know what we're dealing with here. Worse, I don't know how to handle it anymore."

"Just put up some salt lines around your doors and windows," Sam says calmly, "it'll never get in."

Vespa was really not expecting that. She looks between them with a look of something like confusion and suspicion combined. "Are you guys paranormal investigators or something?" she asks.

"Something." Dean deadpans, and her expression darkens further.

"Who are you," she demands, "really? What do you want with my sister?"

"We just wanna help" Sam promises. Vespa stares him down untrustingly as she swigs another mouthful of her beer.

"Vespa!"

They all turn at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Vespa brightens considerably at the source: a guy in his early twenties of normal height and build; fairly attractive, maybe; curly light brown hair and darker brown eyes surrounded by wafer-thin wire-framed glasses.

"Roderick!" she addresses him happily, "Hey." She nudges her way between Sam and Dean and they exchange a hug. Roderick looks between the brothers uncertainly.

"Eh..." he trails off.

"Hmm?" Vespa looks up, "Oh!" She puts an arm around Roderick's shoulder. "Feds," she announces after clearing her throat, "this is Roderick Remington. Roderick," she looks at him, "these are the feds, better known as Dean and Sam." She gestures to each of the brothers respectively. The three men shake hands before Vespa claps Roderick on the shoulder.

"So," she asks him, "what's a fine, upstanding citizen like you doing down here with us degenerates?"

Roderick smiles. "I'm just here to see Mel."

"Why?" she asks him incredulously, then adds, "I mean, you just saw her a couple days ago. She hasn't changed all that much" a little quickly.

"Can I see her anyway?" he asks a little bemusedly. Vespa shrugs and rolls her eyes a little.

"Sure." She nods at the open door. "I left her in the kitchen."

He smiles and nods and pats her shoulder. She does the same to him as he passes and watches him leave.

"Who's the guy?" Dean gestures toward Roderick with his notepad.

"Old friend" Vespa explains shortly, "I think he's trying to be there in a time of crisis." She chugs another couple mouthfuls of beer. For no apparent reason she adds, "He and Mel were a thing for a while when she was an upperclassman in high school."

Dean raises an intrigued eyebrow. "Really?"

Vespa shrugs a little. "Well, she did used to look like this:"

She pulls out her phone, pokes a few buttons and holds it up to them. The woman on the screen is undeniably Melissa, dressed in a light purple camisole and white skirt with her hair down and a healthy springtime tan. She's freakin' stunning with her face intact, Dean thinks but decided not to say. Doesn't stop him from whistling appreciatively, though, and Vespa snaps her phone shut.

"Down, boy" she growls, "She's spoken for."

"Seriously?" Dean asks, more surprised than disappointed. He cranes his neck back through the doorway, hoping to get another look at her. He doesn't remember seeing a ring.

Vespa shrugs. "Well, separated." She swallows the last of her beer.

* * *

Later that night, little Jordan Gray watches his father stomp determinedly across the lawn.

"Dad?" he presses his hand against the windowpane and leans closer, thinking he must've seen wrong. Lucius looks up at the sound of his son's voice and smiles lovingly at him. He suddenly vanishes, much to Jordan's shock, and reappears at the window. He presses his hand against the glass, too, mirroring Jordan's position. The six-year-old notices the blood on his father's dark skin. Knowing that he has to get help, he turns on his heel and rushes to find his mother.

"Momma! Momma!" he calls as he barrels into the living room. He smacks into her knees and takes a few seconds to catch his breath. "Dad's outside!"

Marcy looks sadly at her son. "Jordan, baby, I told you," she tries to explain again, "Your daddy got really, really hurt. He's not going to come back."

"But he _did_, momma!" he insists, pulling hard on her hand and wrist, "He's outside and he's hurt! We gotta help him!"

Confused, Marcy follows her son into the kitchen and watches him pull the door open, first triumphantly, then confused.

"Dad?" he says into the darkness.

There's no sign that Lucius was ever there.

He steps out of the door and looks in both directs across the lawn. Still nothing.

"Dad!" he hollers as loudly as he can manage. Marcy kneels behind him, and he lets himself be pulled into an embrace.

"He was here a second ago," Jordan mutters, sulky that his father wouldn't even come in to say hello, "He _was_."

"I know, baby." Marcy kisses the side of his head.


	4. Chapter 3

Sam runs into Roderick again the next outside some mom n' pop coffee place, almost literally.

"Hey" the bespectacled man greets with a raised hand. Sam, a little surprised by his acknowledgement, answers with an "Oh! Hi."

"Hey" Roderick repeats. "Listen, I meant to ask this the other day, but you were already gone: Who are you guys? Vespa says you've been to her place before."

"Mel hired us" Sam lies, "We're Private-Is, my brother and me. Kind of a safety net just in case the trail starts to go cold."

Roderick nods and swirls his coffee thoughtfully. "You know," he says a little off-handedly, "I'm a little surprised she's helping out as much as she is. Vespa, I mean."

Sam gives him a confused look. "Whatta you mean?" Sure, Vespa doesn't seem like the warm and fuzzy type, but who wouldn't take in their sibling after they'd witnessed a murder?

Roderick shrugs. "As long as I can remember, Mel and Vespa have always been at each others' throats. I mean, I know everybody has sibling rivalry, but they got ugly a few times." Sam wonders what 'a few' means.

"If I didn't know any better," Roderick continues, "I would've said they hated each other." He turns to look at Sam. "Guess your true colors come out when push comes to shove, huh?"

* * *

Dean and Sam learn from Melissa that Vespa likes to sit by Merimere Reservoir in Hubbard Park. They find her seated cross-legged on a bench, whistling "Hail to the Chief" to herself and weaving some impossible, triangular pattern from a crochet hook. Her whistling and fingers stop when she notices the shadows over her shoulder. She sighs and rolls her eyes skyward at the sight of them.

"You couldn't have just sent the tall one?" she might be praying. She puts down her work and turns in her seat to face them. "What's up?"

"We wanna ask you about something Roderick said" Sam explains, and suddenly she looks angrier at him than she ever has.

"What did you do to Roderick?" she demands, leaning further toward them in her seat.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean steps between them, "he didn't do anything, okay? He ran into him outside a coffee place, guy felt a little chatty. Said some interesting things. Namely how you and Mel supposedly hate each others' guts."

Vespa glances somewhat guiltily to the side and exhales.

"Okay, look," she starts, "Mel and me... We're not friends. We're not even close, by _any_ means. We both have arrest records, we've even pulled guns on each other, if you can believe it." For Sam and Dean, that's kind of a stretch.

"We've... Said things to each other" she continues, "Called each other things. Even now, I don't take any of it back, and I'm sure she doesn't, either. But..."

She shakes her head slowly. "God, I didn't want _this_! At least if you're dead, you don't have to watch everyone else living their lives. Nobody's gonna wanna hire her now, and more importantly nobody's gonna wanna _touch_ her." She looks pointedly at Dean at that. She turns her back to them in her seat and sighs, staring at her lap.

"I just wanna know who did this" she says quietly, maybe to herself, "Maybe then I could figure out why."

* * *

Sam patrols the area the dog's supposed to haunt that night. It may not be what they're looking for anymore, but it's still the only real lead they've got. Besides, this thing's supposed to like people, right? Maybe it can help them find the dog that's helping kill people.

Okay, yeah, that's stupid, but it's late, he's coffee-deprived-

A branch cracks under somebody's foot, followed by a distinctly canine growl.

_That is way too close to be anything other than very, very bad._

Sam whirls around, and there it is. Predictably it's solid black and looks like a wolf, or maybe some kind of Alaskan or Russian breed, and it's _huge_. Like, Impala-sized huge. Well, maybe; it's a little hard to tell how big it is exactly with its hackles fluffed out like that.

The most striking thing about it is its eyes, though, both for the fiery red irises and the humanoid shape and sclerae. There's something kind of hypnotic yet horrifying about them. Sam really wants to run from it, but his legs won't work.

His arms will, though.

Her raises his gun level with the middle of its forehead. It hunches it shoulders further and spits once in rage. It springs across the twenty feet between them in one leap and rears up on its hind legs; it's about ten or twelve feet tall when it does that. Sam's not sure how, but the dog knocks his gun out of his hands, plants its forepaws on his shoulders, and pins him to the ground.

It takes him a second to get back the air knocked out of him and he gropes for his gun, even though he can't really move his arms with the dog pinning his shoulders down. The dog starts up its snarling at him again when he moves. He catches its eyes again by chance, and again he can't make himself stop looking.

"Dean" he remembers, "_Dean_!"

The dog narrows its creepy eyes at him and dips its head. Sam bellows in surprise, waiting for his throat to be torn open, but it just presses its slimy-cold nose against his forehead.

And then he's seeing so many things at once that he can't really make sense of it all:

His face; His brother's; one other person's; and then he gets a sensation so powerful he can't help but blurt it out:

"Stay away!"

The dog stops its growling and pulls away, but its eyes stay narrowed at first. Its face finally softens and it steps off of Sam's shoulders. He stares at it in confusion for a second, and then a shotgun shell full of salt explodes over its shoulder.

It hunches lower over Sam and snarls in surprise, and then Dean steps out of the trees toward them, pumping another shot into place. The dog leans down to Sam's chest - he starts again before it registers that only his shirt's been bitten - and chucks him at Dean so perfectly that Sam takes the next salt round right in his left pec. Dean lowers the gun and rushes to his side, and by the time they look up again the dog's disappeared.

"You okay?"

"Yeah" Sam grunts. Dean loops his good arm around his shoulders and helps him stagger a few steps forward until Sam tugs at his jacket.

"Dean... The dog, it... I think it was trying to talk to me."

"What?"

"When it jumped me... It showed me some things."

"Such as?"

"Not much, a few faces. I think it wants us to stay away from somebody."

"Who?"

* * *

**A/N: Well, I had to give you guys some reason to come back next time, didn't I? Also, Deanus Ex Machina FTW!**


	5. Chapter 4

Vespa watches the early morning light crawl across the reservoir's surface, egg sandwich half-wrapped in paper in hand. She chews her breakfast placidly, bouncing her foot to the tune of "Hail to the Chief."

"Mornin'" she's surprised to hear Dean call. She turns her head toward him, swallows her mouthful and smiles at him with a small salute.

"Top o the mornin', officer" she greets him. She cranes her neck to look behind him curiously. "Where's the shadow at?"

"Grabbin' coffee" he answers as he approaches the bench. He nods off to the side. "Walk with me for a sec?"

"Sure, why not?" she shrugs. Neither is sure why the other's being so civil, but it's nice not to be snapping at each other for a change.

Vespa finishes her substantial sandwich without either of them saying a word. She personally thinks she should say something, but can't think of anything to say to him for the life of her.

Sam suddenly steps out from behind a tree, and it occurs to her that she's penned in between them. As would any woman, she just about panics. She backs away from them until her back hits the tree.

"Wha-what're you doing?" she asks nervously. She clenches her fists and straightens her legs. "Back off, both of you!"

"Not until you tell us what the hell's going on" Dean returns. She gives him an incredulous look.

"What are you talking about?"

Dean's eyes narrow a little more. "That dog from day one jumped Sam last night."

"What?" she really looks taken by surprise, "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine" Sam almost snaps, "But that thing seemed real intent on making sure we stay away from _you_."

She somehow shrinks a little further into the tree. "Okay, okay, look" she raises her hands placatingly, "I'll explain whatever I can, but you have-"

A dog growls very loudly somewhere behind them.

"Oh, God" Vespa's eyes go wide with horror. Dean and Sam shoot over to the tree, backs to Vespa, and draw an iron knife each.

"Wait, don't!" she tries to say. The last syllable is lost in another snarl from the dog.

It steps out from behind some trees and pauses mid-stride to glare straight at the brothers. Its weird human eyes are screwed up in apparent rage and its hackles jump skyward.

Vespa suddenly shoves her way in front of them and spreads her arms to the sides. Before either of them can stop her, she slowly moves in closer to it, lowering her arms as she goes. The dog narrows its eyes at her. She stops less than an arm's length from it.

And bops it pointedly on the nose. It shakes its head in surprise and snaps its jaws at her, clearly annoyed.

"What the hell am I hearing, you attacked them?" she gestures behind her at the Winchesters. She lays her hand on its shoulder. It looks past her at Dean and Sam and growls at them. Vespa makes a loud, frustrated noise.

"They're just paranormal investigators," she sounds like she's explained this a hundred times, "They wouldn't hurt a human!"

Her brow furrows in interest. The dog steps between her and the boys.

"Seriously?" she asks, "Huh. I thought they seemed a little combat-ready. But either way, they're not after people!"

The dog responds by turning it head toward her with a short whine and a few shakes of its tail. She smiles warmly at it.

"Aw" she sounds touched, "Thanks, boy." She scratches the base of the ear closest to her. The dog's back leg shakes happily. Vespa chuckles.

"Yeah, you like that, don'cha?" she moves down to the base of its neck. It first sinks onto its haunches, then rolls onto its back and kicks its back leg furiously as Vespa scratches its belly. Vespa grins down at it a little bit crazily. "Yeah," she giggles, "that's my boy."

"All right, what the hell is going on?" Dean demands. Sam watches this all play out like she's grown a second head. The dog is not at all happy about having its tummy rub interrupted.

Vespa sighs. "Winchesters, this is Ezra." She lifts her hand to them. "Ezra, these are the Winchesters, better known as Dean and Sam." Her palm slaps loudly against her thigh as she sulks at them.

"Whatta _you_ look so pissed for?" Dean asks, and Vespa sighs as she shoves herself to her feet.

"Because I was _really_ hoping this wouldn't happen" she answers sharply, "And now I assume comes the interrogation?"

Dean redraws his knife in response and points it at them. "Walk."

Vespa brings up the front, followed by Dean and Ezra in that order with Sam bringing up the rear. Ezra's ears vanish into the fur on his head. He growls at Dean for a solid minute before the latter finally says something. Or, more accurately, shouts something:

"Okay, would you tell that thing to shut up?"

Ezra hooks his nose under the seat of Dean's pants and pitches him over his head.

Vespa giggles uncontrollably from Dean hitting to ground to Sam helping him up. The looks they give her shut her up quickly. She gives Ezra a fairly serious look.

"No more. Seriously."

Even so, she pats his shoulder as they continue and snickers every now and again.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Heads up, this one's_ long_.**

* * *

Vespa follows the Winchesters back to their hotel room compliantly. Upon questioning, she explains to Dean that Ezra can only be seen and touched by people he wants to see him.

"All right," she carelessly scuffs at the salt line at the door to allow Ezra passage, "I'll tell you whatever you wanna know, so there's no need to break out the salt and silver."

Ezra snarls pointedly as Dean reaches for a vial of holy water in his pocket. Vespa rounds on him, thoroughly enraged.

"Whatever you just picked up, drop it!" she snaps, "'Cause I got way less trouble with the idea of letting Ezra chew on you than I think I should!"

Ezra growls at Dean like he might chew on him regardless of permission. Dean glares at the dog briefly, but pockets the holy water anyway before demanding an answer:

"Were you the guy that did all this?"

She raises her right hand and utters a nonchalant, "Guilty, your honor."

Sam is outraged. "To your own sister?"

Vespa narrows her eyes. "I did what had to be done, at least to that little slut. She deserves worse than every scratch she got after what she did to her husband. She was never good enough for him, anyway." Ezra snorts like he agrees.

"Hey, this husband of Mel's," Dean asks, "it wouldn't happen to be Roderick, would it?"

Her eyes widen and mouth shuts in that classic caught look. She swings her head away from them wordlessly and narrows her eyes.

"Ah, so that's what this is about."

"That is not what this is about!" she snaps, "Roderick's never been anything more or less to me than my best friend. I'm more his sister than I've ever been Mel's. I told you, Mel and me don't like each other. Maybe we did once, but we sure as hell don't now. And you two can say what you want, I'm not sorry for what I did."

It could just be the big brother-ness in Dean thinking, but hearing this makes him look at Vespa a a lower life form. He feels like he has to say something, but his thought process is a little stuck. Just as he opens his mouth to tell her off, Sam beats him to the punch:

"You're a sick bitch, you know that?"

Yeah, that sums it up pretty good.

"Bite me" she frowns at them, "I've seen how you two act. If you didn't have the same chin, I'd wonder why you were sleeping in separate beds. Well, that and you could do a lot better."

Dean smirks. "Yeah, don't I know it."

Vespa is not pleased. "I'm talking to Sam, ya egomaniac."

The latter smothers the urge to thank her.

"Tell me something" she asks out of the blue, "If either of you found out that somebody you probably hate was not only cheating on your brother, but beating him to boot, what would you do?"

"I'd kill 'em" they say almost together again. Vespa holds her hand up.

"Case in point."

"You know what, screw you" Dean tells her, "Sam's my brother, he's family. You don't leave family for dead!"

"Blood doesn't mean family!" she snaps, "And right now, the one guy in all this I do care about could be in a lot of trouble."

Sam frowns in concern. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the ghost of Lucius Gray showed up in my kitchen last night and came yea close to puttin' a butcher knife in my head." As if to prove her point, she shucks her left denim jacket sleeve down to her elbow to reveal a long, fairly deep slice in her skin. "He missed, mostly," she pulls her sleeve back down, "but now I need a way to get him gone. He shouldn't be stuck here, he should be up in heaven. So how do I get him from here to there? Other than killing myself, I mean."

"Spirits don't always want vengeance" Sam tells her seriously, "Sometimes they just want justice."

Vespa lowers her eyebrows thoughtfully. "So," she works it all out in her head, "what you're saying is... I turn myself in, Lucius goes away?"

"He might" Sam answers.

Vespa looks owlishly from Dean to Sam and back again, then looses a bark of laughter that knocks her head back. "Heh, yeah" she chuckles as she scratches Ezra's ear, "That's gonna happen."

Sam can't believe what he's hearing. "What?"

"Whatta you mean 'what?'" she stops grinning, "I slit the guy's throat after I cut off his gonads. You really think I'm gonna stick my neck out for him now?

"Oh, to hell with both of you!" she says decisively after a moment of silence, "If you won't help me, I'll get rid of him myself!" She glances at Ezra. "That can be done, right?"

He nods, and she pats his shoulder as they walk out.

"That's my boy."

* * *

When Dean and Sam get out the door, Vespa and Ezra are standing at the trunk of the Impala, much to Dean's horror.

"Hey!" he barks and makes a mad dash toward them, "Get the hell away from my car!"

Ezra pounces at Dean and snarls deafeningly at him. Vespa, seemingly unaffected by the scene, tries unsuccessfully to pry the trunk open.

"D'you mind?" she asks. Ezra turns back to her and taps the top of the trunk a few times with his paw. It clicks open after a few seconds. "Thanks, boy" she smiles at him.

She lifts the false bottom immediately and takes out a shovel and their can of gas. "Hmm?" she looks up for a minute, even though no one's said anything out loud, "Oh, right. Thanks again."

She pulls out a canister of salt.

It takes a little doing, but she works it all into one arm. Ezra lowers his upper body to the ground so she can settle herself behind the tops of his shoulder blades. He lurches back upright when he feels her free hand twist around some of the fur at the base of his neck. She kind of feels the need to explain:

"Nobody'll see or hear either one of us, so long as we don't bump them by mistake." She lets go of Ezra's fur just long enough to flip the brothers a two-finger salute.

"Later, Winchesters."

And with that, they're both gone.

* * *

In the time it takes the brothers to find the right cemetery and catch up to Ezra and Vespa, they've managed to dig up most of Lucius' grave. Vespa looks up in surprise at the sound of footsteps - due in large part to Ezra's not growling to warn her - and frowns when she sees who it is.

"You couldn't have gotten here a half hour earlier?" she asks in annoyance. She turns to heave another spadeful of dirt over the sides of the hole. "I've lost feeling in my lower back, down here!"

The tip of the shovel thunks against a very non-dirt surface. She crouches down and brushes the last of the dirt away.

Lucius' casket is made of dark, slightly sparkly gray metal, but it's not thick. Ezra hooks his paws around the lid and drags it back with a shriek of protest from the locks.

Dean and Sam make a grab for the salt and gas, respectively. Ezra vaults out of hole and crouches protectively over them, growling at the brothers. Vespa heaves herself up over the sides-

And screams as something throws her ten feet away.

She quickly jumps back to her feet, breathing hard. Her face screws up angrily as a figure flickers into sight at the edge of the grave: An enraged black man with his throat cut and sides heaving.

Ezra seizes him by the collar and flings him twenty rows of tombstones down, snarling viciously at him with his hackles fluffed out and one paw raised at the ready.

Vespa makes a mad dash back to the grave. Lucius stomps back toward her, but is again caught by Ezra and thrown aside. Shaking madly from the adrenaline, Vespa dumps the salt and gas along his body, although she misses good bit due to her spasming.

As she fumbles in her pockets for the book of matches, she is suddenly tackled onto her back. Her head snaps to the side like she's been punched. A bruise pools across her cheek. Her eyes suddenly bulge and she scratches at her throat. Lucius flickers in and out of sight, straddling her stomach and baring his teeth as he throttles her. She returns the expression, scratching at the ground for the matches and wildly kicking her legs.

Eventually she has to devote her remaining energy to prying his intangible hands off her throat. Ezra hops back and forth ten feet away from them, but can't seem to get any closer. He yowls at Vespa's weakening self and looks pleadingly at the Winchesters, specifically at Sam; he's surer that he'll understand between the two of them.

Sam isn't sure why, but he's suddenly overwhelmed. Looking at Ezra, he gets this unbelievably intense feeling that he's watching his own daughter being strangled over there.

Vespa stretches her neck back convulsively. "Torch him!" she manages to beg in a ragged voice. She coughs in surprise as Lucius tightens his hold and growls at her. She glares defiantly at him as her eyes start to roll back into her head.

His hands suddenly catch fire. He watches his arms burn in horror and bellows angrily as he erupts in fire and is gone.

Vespa drags in a huge breath when he's gone. Ezra charges to her side, whimpering as he nudges and licks her face. She scratches the top of his head comfortingly and rolls her head toward the Winchesters.

Sam is standing over Lucius' grave-turned-pyre with a serious look on his face. Vespa nods at him once in thanks, then closes her eyes.

* * *

**A/N: I'd originally planned to add in how Vespa came across Ezra in the first place, but it just didn't seem to fit in the final copy.**


	7. Epilogue

As Dean and Sam go to leave the next morning, they find Vespa waiting against the Impala for them. Ezra narrows his eyes at them - they're green this time - and rumbles threateningly in his throat. Vespa nudges him sharply with her toe.

"Relax" she tells him, "You know why we're here."

Ezra huffs, but settles his chin on his front paws without further complaint. Vespa rolls her head around to the brothers.

"You're welcome."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "For?"

"For you two were never at the scene."

The brothers exchange a glance, then Sam speaks:

"So, what happened?"

Vespa shrugs. "I felt like paying my respects to Lucius and found a couple of guys dropping a match in his grave. Naturally, I ran at them with a stick, but one of them clocked me in the jaw. By the time I came around, they were long gone."

"Thanks" Sam nods. "Don't worry about it" she mutters. She looks morosely at the ground. Ezra whines with a sympathetic look, and Sam frowns in concern.

"You okay?"

"No" she says and kicks at a random pebble, "I'm pretty sure I'm heartbroken."

"Why?"

She sighs. "I told Roderick. About everything." She glances at Ezra, whose ears are flattened with concern. "Mel, Lucius... Ezra. He knows about it all."

"So?" Dean asks, and she raises her eyebrow at him.

"_So_, how would you feel if whoever you lost your virginity to looked at you like this?" Her eyes widen in shock, then her brow puckers in confusion, her eyes narrow and her lip lifts in disgust, and finally she shakes her head and makes a soft, negative "Tch!" She turns as if to walk away, then leans dejectedly against the Impala.

Sam purses his lips. He has to admit, if Jess had ever looked at him like that, he wouldn't have known what he'd do.

"So, what are you gonna do now?" Sam asks. She sighs again.

"Well, just in case Roderick decides to go to the police with this, I'm gonna hit the road."

Sam then notices a small packed rucksack, a fireplace poker and a length of thick iron chain leaning against her far leg. Ezra drags himself to his feet with a groan. Vespa's mouth quirks up at that and she pats his shoulder comfortingly. The action makes a thought occur to Dean.

"Hey, isn't this the part where you offer us your dog in gratitude?" he asks with his usual bastard smirk. Ezra makes a noise that sounds almost exactly like "_Hmm_?" Vespa looks at his like he's just announced he's pregnant.

"Yeah, I'll trade him for your car and your cache of weapons" she scoffs. Dean reels.

"Hell no!"

"Good" she says decisively, "Glad we understand each other." She turns around to face them fully. "Look," she covers her sternum with her right hand, "you guys saved my life, and I will _never_ stop being grateful to you for that. But," she raises her finger, "I also lied _your_ asses out of a grave mutilation charge. According to me? We're even."

She fits the chain and poker like a sash around her torso and slings her bag across her shoulders before pulling herself onto Ezra's back.

"Y'know, Winchesters," she says thoughtfully, "I kinda hope we end up runnin' into each other again in a blue moon or so. Hopefully under better circumstances."

Sam chuckles in spite of himself, and Vespa beams.

"Well, until then." She gets weirdly serious for a minute. "Good luck, Winchesters. With whatever it is you're doing."

She and Sam hold gazes for a minute. She looks away first. "Well," she looks to the left, "westward, ho."

They watch Ezra trot off for a minute, the Sam speaks first.

"D'you think we'll ever see her again?"

"God, I hope not" Dean almost stomps around to the driver's side. "And hey," he asks as Sam opens his door, "what was that look? When she was talkin' about virginity?"

"What?" Sam asks, "I'm not allowed to be sympathetic?"

"All right, that's it," Dean decides, "You. Whorehouse. Tonight. No arguments. You're gettin' laid if I have to roofie you myself!"

Sam scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Your concern is touching, jerk."

"Ah, you know you love me, bitch."

Dean flips on the radio to a station that is _so_ not his usual. The opening chords of "Hungry like the Wolf" have just started playing. They exchange a confused look.

"Oh, she is _so_ dead" Dean punches the buttons for the right station, "_Nobody_ plays with baby's buttons!" He guns the car out of the lot.

Vespa and Ezra join in a giggle before they turn on his heel and disappear into the Hanging Hills.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's that. I never intended this to be a very long story, it was kinda supposed to read like an episode of the show. As for why Ezra's eyes change color, people sometimes report that the Black Dog - any Black Dog - has different eye colors between sightings.**

**And not for nothing, but when I first wrote this out, I wasn't entirely sure about the notion that Sam _did_ lose his virginity to Jess. I wouldn't be all that surprised to find out that he lost his virginity to Dean, but I highly doubt that was the case in any canon, head, fan _or_ legitimate.**


End file.
